For You
by Moonspun Dragon
Summary: Written for AssassinOfRome. Teen!Sherlock and Co. When they all meet in highschool.
1. Chapter 1

A/N: This is for AssainOfRome to celebrate her twenty- fifth fic. Although, I'm a bit late. Sorry, Rome! Please read her fics, they are really good. :D Enjoy! :D

**NOTE**: I have rewritten this chapter because it didn't really read that well, when I read over it after posting it. Despite it's original length of well over nine- hundred words, it still seemed too short. I hope you like this version better. If you like the original better, please let me know so I can switch it out again. Thank you! :D

Disclaimer: I own nothing.

Chapter 1

_The Freak _is what they call me when they think I cannot hear their whispers. "Have you heard what The Freak has done now?" they whisper.

No one understands that I can't help what I see, smell, touch. What I observe. It's not my fault they _ask _me to explain how I knew their secrets. When they ask, I'm compelled to answer, and then they realize why I'm "The Freak."

"Mr Holmes, perhaps you can tell us?" a voice asked, interrupting his thoughts.

Sherlock Holmes looked away from the small group positioned on the opposite side of the room, who were, obviously, talking about him. He glanced at the blackboard to orient himself, then returned Mr. Flanagan's gaze. Sherlock gave an answer in the silent room, all too aware that the group of four he had been trying to ignore, were just waiting for him to slip up.

His English teacher raised an eyebrow in surprise and silent admiration. "Very goo. That is the right answer, Mr. Holmes." He continued with the lesson

Under Mr. Flanagan's steady stream of informative dialogue, Sherlock heard the slight, disbelieving gasp, a muttered, "Freak," and then quiet giggles. He rolled his eyes and slouched further in his seat. _And it seems that answering correctly is, also, freakish, _he thought.

The door to the classroom, which Sherlock was sitting near, opened suddenly, jarring Sherlock out of his thoughts and his progressive ideas on how to further aggravate the "Main Three," as he liked to call Sally Donovan, James Anderson, and Peter Dimmock. He glared at the disturbingly unapologetic door for a second before turning his sharp, piercing gaze on the student, who was responsible for opening it.

In the five seconds it took for the boy to cross the room where Mr. Flanangan stood, glaring at him for being late, Sherlock's brain proccessed that the shorter, blond boy was new, was the youngest of, at least, two siblings total, and had a small dog.

By the time he held his paper out to Mr. Flanagan, Sherlock had returned his attention to the group of four sitting near the windows. Sherlock sat near the wall nearest to the door, the only seat he could feel comfortable taking.

Sally Donovan shot him a glare, which Sherlock returned with a smug smirk as Mr. Flanagan introduced the new student.

"Students, this is," he glanced quickly at the slip of paper, "John Watson. He moved here from the North. Mr. Watson, please take a seat," the teacher handed the paper back to Watson.

Sherlock had heard all this in the background, he ignored Watson for now, confident the boy wouldn't sit near someone who was painfully, obviously, shunned. Besides, Watson had been in this school long enough to have heard about him and, probably, had him pointed out to him.

He was still staring at Donovan when her expression changed from complete hatred to curiosity right before Sherlock heard the scrapping of a chair being pulled across the hard concrete floor. His furrowed his brows, confused. If his ears weren't deceiving him, which he knew wasn't likely, he could've sworn the sound came from beside him.

Sherlock turned just in time to catch Watson plopping his pack onto the desk and his self in the chair. He stared at him as Watson unpacked what he needed.

* * *

><p>John finally noticed the stare and looked at the boy next to him, nervously. He wasn't usually nervous or shy, but when he met the other's icy blue- grey eyes, he felt nervous and the fact that he moved to a new town and started going to a new school didn't help. It just seemed to enhance that feeling of self- awareness you get when you go somewhere new.<p>

"What?" John whispered.

The boy blinked his piercing eyes, slowly as if he were trying to figure out something that was very complicated. "Why did you choose _this _seat?" he asked, gesturing to the seat which John was sitting in, which was one seat away from the wall.

John glanced around the room and noticed quite a few pairs of eyes were looking at them. They were either full- out staring, or secretly out of the corners of their eyes. John's self- awareness grew as he wondered if he had done something that they didn't think was right. "Does someone else sit here? I can move," he asked as he prepared to move to another desk.

"No, no it's... fine," the other whispered, before turning his attention to the teacher.

John looked at his profile for a few seconds before following suit.

* * *

><p>Sherlock's mind was whirring with questions and confusion. Why did Watson choose this seat? Was it because he had made friends with somebody who wanted more gossip to spread around? He looked at Watson out of the corner of his eye and immediately dispelled that thought.<p>

Watson didn't seem like the type to trust other people and make friends too quickly and he this is his first day in this school. Besides, he would be trying to talk to Sherlock more and ask him questions. No, of course not.

So, then, _why_?

Sherlock started slightly as the bell, that signified that class was over, rang. He leaned back in his chair as the river of students clogged the aisles and the front of the class, making passage impossible. He forgot Watson as he observed the students shuffling past, seeing what they took such pains to hide from their peers, friends, and teachers. When Donovan walked by, she ignored him completely and, instead, stared at the desk next to Sherlock with fierce curiosity.

Puzzled, Sherlock followed her glance and saw Watson still sitting there, finishing writing the few notes he had managed to take. Sherlock continued to stare at him with surprise. He hadn't realized Watson had been still sitting there, until now. He narrowed his eyes slightly, the only outward indication of his shock, studying Watson.

He knew Watson was aware of Sherlock watching him, but he didn't meet Sherlock's steady gaze. So, there was some timidity, but not too much. Watson was, also, slightly freaked out judging from the way he kept looking at Sherlock furtively from the corner of his eye.

In short, Watson was like the others. He was timid, unobservant, and freaked out if Sherlock looked at him for long.

Sherlock averted his gaze. The new kid wasn't worth his time. He was boring, dull, ordinary, stupid. Watson wouldn't even last a day without joining Donovan's little group, the ASH. So, at the soonest possibility, Sherlock stood, flung his pack on his back, and moved quickly out the door, not giving John Watson another thought.

End of Chapter 1

A/N: I based this slightly off of Toby Mac's "I'm For You." It's a real good song I encourage you to check it out. I hope you enjoyed! :D


	2. Chapter 2

A/N: Hello! :D This is the second chapter and this is my first time I wrote a certain scene. ;D Please enjoy! :D

Disclaimer: I own nothing.

Chapter 2

John hadn't seen the odd boy since his English class, and now it was at the end of the school day. John wondered if the boy was always that abrupt, or if John had done something to offend him.

At lunch, John had finally got to ask about the boy's name. When he asked, it was as if someone had flipped a switch. Everyone had gone silent immediately.

"Does Freak even have a name?" a girl asked.

"Sally," an older- looking boy, who looked like he could be a football player, growled warningly.

"No, I think she has a point," another boy said. He had short dark hair.

The first boy had rubbed his hand over his face. "Dimmock, you and Anderson would agree with Donovan about anything and everything she says concerning Sherlock."

"Would not!" a nasal-y voice chimed in. "You're just biased, Lestrade, because he helped explain your Science homework to you."

Lestrade narrowed his eyes at Anderson in a way that made the other boy immediately drop his head, and sent a shiver up John's spine. He made a mental note to never get on Lestrade's bad side.

"His name is Sherlock Holmes and he's smarter than all the rest of us," Lestrade answered, expanding the glare to the other two students, who followed Anderson's lead. Although, to John, it looked as though Dimmock followed suit a bit more reluctantly. His glare softened as he looked at John. "He's a good kid, once you get to know him and before you patronize him."

Lestrade, then, moved onto a different subject.

Even though the others moved on, John remembered that moment. What kind of person can make a group of kids, who looked like they could take care of themselves; go tense at the mere mention of his name? John had been wondering about that question for the rest of the day.

A loud noise coming from the side of the school startled John out of his thoughts. He turned his head in that direction. It sounded like a fight had broken out. He immediately headed in that direction.

The sight that met his eyes was, indeed, a fight. An ever-growing crowd of students circled the fighters. John dropped his bag and started pushing his way through to the front.

In the centre, of the yelling crowd, were three students. Two of the boys John recognized as Dimmock and Anderson. John blinked as he saw the third fighter, who was none other than the elusive Sherlock Holmes.

Even though Sherlock was on his own in this fight, he wasn't doing that bad. John watched as Sherlock ducked a blow from Anderson and dogged a kick from Dimmock. His counter- attack was sweeping Anderson's feet out from under him and landing a blow to Dimmock's stomach. Dimmock doubled over and Sherlock turned his attention to Anderson, who had just gotten up. As Sherlock dogged Anderson's blow, Dimmock recovered. John saw that Sherlock had forgotten about his second opponent. John knew Sherlock would be in serious trouble if Dimmock re-joined the fray.

Without thinking, John grabbed Dimmock's sleeve to catch his attention, then he landed a punch of his own on Dimmock's jaw. Dimmock spun and landed on his side. He clutched his jaw and glared at John in surprise. John returned his glare with his own that said, _I suggest you bail out now while you still have a chance. _To his mild surprise, Dimmock picked himself up and pushed his way out through the crowd, which had gone silent at John's intrusion. John ignored him as he made his way to help Sherlock.

He reached the duo as Anderson had gotten in a lucky strike on Sherlock's eyebrow, managing to daze and knock Sherlock down. As Anderson advanced to finish Sherlock off, John hopped onto his back and used all of his weight to bring Anderson down. John managed to enjoy the startled squawk right before the taller boy fell on top of him, driving the air from his lungs in the process.

He heard the crowd begin to disperse, and then he saw a shadow just before Anderson's weight shifted off him completely. John raised his head and rolled onto his side, gasping for air. He saw teachers discouraging the last of the onlookers, or examining Anderson and Dimmock for any other injuries they may have.

As a teacher came up to John, who just got his breath back, to make sure he was okay, John looked around the yard for a glimpse of black curly hair. He, finally, spotted him reluctantly following a man with an umbrella towards the line of cars waiting to pick up students. John ignored the teacher approaching him and ran after Sherlock.

"Sherlock!" he called.

Sherlock stopped, as did the man Sherlock was following, and turned. John blinked at the cold, angry look in his eyes, but it quickly melted into neutrality. "What?"

John quickly noted that there was a shallow gash over Sherlock's left eyebrow and that it was still oozing blood and that bruises were already forming on his pale face. "Are you okay?"

Sherlock looked at him strangely. "I'm fine."

The man Sherlock had been following looked from Sherlock to John and back again. "You are…?"

John met his dark eyes, a little bit defiantly. "I'm Sherlock's friend, John Watson. I just wanted to make sure he was okay. I just moved here."

Out of the corner of his eye, John saw Sherlock flinch reflexively as the word "friend" was said. The strange umbrella- wielding man raised an eyebrow and smiled in a sinister way. Sherlock cleared his throat. "John, this is my brother Mycroft."

As John took a breath to speak, he heard someone angrily yell, "There you are! Mum's going to be so mad at you!"

John winced as he turned to face her. Why did his sister have to take such a sadistic delight in his misfortune? "Harry-"

"You are so dead!" Harry stopped him and grabbed his sleeve. She started to drag him off to where their family station wagon was parked.

John looked over his shoulder at the two brothers and met Sherlock's eyes. "See you later, Sherlock. I hope… Ouch! Harry!"

The Holmes brothers watched John and Harry go for a minute, and then made their way to their own car.

Sherlock was silent on the short journey home. When they arrived, Sherlock said, quietly as if he were speaking to himself, "You're wrong, you know. Not all people hate me."

Mycroft looked at his younger brother and started to say something, but Sherlock was already out of the car and entering the house.

End of Chapter 2

A/N: Yes, I have never writin a fight scene before. I think you can actually tell. :D Btw, I will be making a compaion/sequel to this. I have already started writting it. Can't say too much about it. ;D There, probably will be one more chapter to complete this. I hoipe you enjoyed! :D


	3. Chapter 3

A/N: Hello! In this chapter, I introduce a character. You'll know when you see. ;D Please enjoy! :D

Disclaimer: I own nothing.

Chapter 3

That day was a Friday and John had been grounded for just being involved in the fight. All that weekend, John had been worrying about that cut about Sherlock's eye. It didn't look that deep, but it still worried him. It was Monday by the time he could check on Sherlock without risking another punishment.

All day, John looked for Sherlock, but when he didn't show, John had a nagging feeling that something had happened. Even though he had known Sherlock for, technically, a day, John knew that Sherlock would never miss an opportunity to show off his blinding intelligence. John decided to wait one more day before he looked for him.

When Sherlock didn't show up again by the end of the next day, John went in search for Lestrade, hoping the older boy would have Sherlock's home address. He found him just exiting the front of the school and called to him.

Lestrade jerked his head up and locked eyes with John. He saw the determination and worry in the new kid's dark blue eyes. He knew something was up.

"Lestrade, do you know Sherlock's address?" John asked coming up to him.

"Yeah. Why do you need it?" Lestrade asked, not unkindly.

"Sherlock hasn't shown up for two days and I was getting concerned," John replied, a bit nervously.

Lestrade mentally groaned. He knew it. "John, Sherlock does this. Sometimes he disappears for a few days, then turns up again. He had once disappeared for an entire week, then showed up the next day. He can take care of himself." At John's determined glare, Lestrade sighed, giving it up as hopeless and said, "22 Montague Street." He gave the directions to the younger boy. John thanked him and headed off in the indicated direction. He had told his mum and Harry he would walk home today.

John followed Lestrade's directions and soon found himself standing in front of a white- stone townhouse with black shutters and a chest- high wrought- iron gate with _fleur- de- lys_ spikes on the top that ran in front of the building and disappeared around the corner. He rang the doorbell.

A few minutes later, a middle aged woman opened the door and John knew immediately she was Sherlock's mother. She had dark hair and eyes, like Mycroft's, but her mouth were Sherlock's as well as some of her facial bone structure were vaguely his. She was very pretty.

She looked at John, curiously. "Yes? May I help you?" Her accent was French.

John blinked at this. She was completely different from her sons. The expression in her eyes were, that is. There was an openness in her expression that both her sons lacked in their eyes.

John quickly realized he was staring and snapped himself out of his thoughts. "Um, I'm here to see Sherlock?" he answered, a bit unsure, thinking about Lestrade's thinly veiled warning.

The curiosity in her warm brown eyes intensified and mingled with surprise. Whatever she had been expecting, it wasn't this. "Sherlock is unwell. May I give him a message?"

John looked at her with concern. "How bad is he? May I see him?"

To John's surprise, Sherlock's mother started to cry. She said something in French, then moved aside, beckoning for John to follow. He did so without hesitation.

He looked at her with worry as he moved past her into the house. She saw his look and said, "No. Sherlock will be okay. It's just...," she smiled and trailed off. John offered her a small smile in return. "What is your name, young one?"

"Watson. John Watson."

"I'm Estelle Holmes. Please forgive me for not introducing myself earlier," Mrs. Holmes said, as she closed the door and move past John.

"It's fine, Mrs. Holmes."

"Estelle, please. This way."

John followed her up a flight of stairs to the first floor and stopped in front of the third door to the left. Estelle slowly opened the door and entered. John stayed in the doorway. The room was dark inside and all John saw was the bed and that the carpet was dark blue.

Estelle went to the bed and sat on the edge. "_Mon cher_," she whispered.

Sherlock moved his head and looked at his mother. "_Oui_?"

She whispered something in French and Sherlock responded. Estelle reached out and started smoothing his sweaty hair back from his bandaged forehead and said something in a pleading tone. Sherlock gave a small sigh and nodded. Estelle looked over at John, who was still standing awkwardly in the doorway, and beckoned him closer.

As John approached slowly, Estelle stood with a pat on her youngest son's hand and quietly left. John took her place.

Sherlock stared at him a few minutes, curiosity burning brightly through his piercing blue- grey eyes. "Why are you here?" his voice coming out croaky from disuse. "This isn't on your way home. You live in the opposite direction, so you can't say, 'I was just passing through.'"

"I wanted to see if you were alright," John answered. "My dad is a doctor and he taught Harry and me how to tell if a wound will become infected if not treated immediately. When you didn't show for two days, I became concerned."

Sherlock blinked No one outside his family had ever been concerned about him enough to actually check up on him before. Except, perhaps, Lestrade and he only made an occasional appearance. So why, exactly, was Watson here?

He searched the new kid's dark blue eyes and saw the honesty in which he spoke there. Odd. Interesting.

John noticed Sherlock's confusion and smiled slightly, "What don't you receive well- wishers," Sherlock looked away and John's smile dropped, "You do have _someone _to visit you when you're sick, right? Grandparents? Aunts? Uncles? Cousins?"

"My grandparents died when I was a child and my aunts and uncles live in France, so that would, obviously, be a no," Sherlock responded.

"And there is no one at school-" John started.

"Of course not. Except Lestrade. Even then, he only makes a rare appearance because he doesn't want the A. S. H. vultures on his back. He appeases them and all's right with the world," Sherlock cut in. He said it matter- of- fact. John saw in his eyes that Sherlock truly didn't care one way or the other.

"What's A. S. H.?" John asked.

Sherlock gave a little smirk. "'Anti- Sherlock Holmes.' It's a club, rather clique, for those who can't except the truth."

John was about to respond when there was a small beep. He looked down at his watch and uttered a shocked gasp. "Mum's going to be freaking out!" He looked at Sherlock, who was watching him with amusement. "Listen, Sherlock, I've got to go, but I'll be back tomorrow," John froze, thought about that promise. "If I live to see tomorrow, that is." He amended.

Sherlock's smirk became bigger, more noticeable. He knew about Mother's Wrath quiet well. "She'll be so glad you came home that she'll probably forget to kill you."

John made a face. "Thanks for that encouragement," he started to leave, but stopped in the doorway as a question hit him. He stopped in the doorway, turned to look at his new friend, who was watching him curiously. "Why don't you get on with the other kids?"

Sherlock's earlier amusement came back full force. "Because I see what is so obviously hidden."

At John's confused look, Sherlock elaborated. "I observe what other people can't, or refuse, to see. For instance, Have you noticed how Sally Donovan acts around that attractive girl with the black hair, who usually hangs around Anderson?" John nodded. "Sally is 'secretly' seeing Anderson behind his girlfriend's, Miranda Cartwright, back. Hence Friday's fight."

John stared at him, with his mouth slightly open. "How did you-?"

"Simple. Whenever Miranda is around Sally and Anderson, the former is glaring at her, while the latter is distinctly uncomfortable."

"Yeah, well, I haven't known them for long."

"You want me to tell you about yourself? Very well," Sherlock's earlier light mood vanished as he moved his head so he was looking straight up at the ceiling. He continued, resigning himself to the inevitable loss of another friend. "When you first entered the classroom Friday, I saw you had come from the North because of your choice of clothing, that you had a dog from the short, white hairs on your clothes, dog hairs are more dense than cat hair, and that you had at least one older sibling from the way you reacted to Mr. Flanagan's glare. I had originally thought brother from the way you fought, but was, obviously proven wrong."

Sherlock fell silent as he waited for John to huff angrily and storm out. When there was no such reaction, Sherlock turned his head and saw John staring at him, his mouth fully hanging open as he did so.

The tense silence seemed to drag on, until John said, slowly, "That..."

_Here it comes_, Sherlock thought, preparing himself for the certain rejection.

"... was amazing!"

_I knew it! He- wait. What? _"Really?" Sherlock asked, shocked.

John nodded, his dark blue eyes slightly wider than usual. "Of course it was! It was brilliant."

Sherlock blinked, then grinned. "That's new. People just spit, 'Freak' and stomp off."

"Then they're idiots," John said, smiling in return.

Sherlock's grin became mischievous. "You'd better be off if you want to still be alive tomorrow."

John groaned and said, sarcastically, "Gee, thanks." He turned on his heel and started out of the room. "See you, Sherlock!"

"Good- bye, John!" Sherlock called after him as the shorter boy disappeared around the doorjamb. Sherlock mentally added, _Thank you_, before he fell into a healing sleep.

End

A/N: Wow, this is a monster chapter! I would like to apologize if anyone was OOC. There will be an Epilogue, too. Anyway I hope you enjoyed! :D


	4. Epilogue

A/N: Okay, folks, here is the long awaited for Epilogue. Enjoy! :D

Disclaimer: I own nothing.

Epilogue

True to his word, John came to visit after school until Sherlock was well enough to return. Since then, it became rare to find one without the other. Fights had become somewhat fewer since John was there to smooth ruffled feathers in his friend's wake, but they still happened occasionally.

The other kids, mostly Dimmock with the occasional help of Anderson, had grown smart enough not to pick on Sherlock if John was there to help him. It would end in a minor scuffle, but would be ten times worse if they messed with John when Sherlock was near. They soon found it better to avoid the duo entirely.

Sherlock and John found out they were better together than separate. When one was injured or sick, the other stayed with them. When one, mainly Sherlock, got into trouble, the other, mainly John, would bail him out. They were always there for each other.

Little did Sherlock and John know that these schoolyard fights were training them for a much more formidable enemy that they would have to face one day, years from now.

* * *

><p><em>"Tell me where it's hurting<em>

_Are you burning?_

_Running just to catch your breath?_

_And going nowhere_

_It's getting old when you feel like you've got nothing left._

_It ain't over, till it's over_

_I told you since the day we met._

_So let me be the voice through all the noise._

_Whatever I gotta be,_

_I'll be for you._

_Whatever need from me to see you through._

_Everyone of us has stumbled,_

_Everyone is humbled_

_We hit the ground and our lives crumble_

_Whatever I gotta be _

_I'll be for you_

_I'm for you_

_If you never knew_

_If you never knew_

_You know it's true_

_I know the feeling_

_I know it's real when the drama's all in your face_

_You see a mountain_

_I hear a promise- it's never more than we can take._

_Well, it ain't over, till it's over_

_We can turn from our mistakes_

_So let me be the voice through all the noise._

_Whatever I gotta be _

_I'll be for you_

_Whatever you need from me_

_To see you through_

_Everyone of has stumbled _

_Everyone is humbled_

_We hit the ground and our lives crumble_

_Whatever I gotta be _

_I'll be for you_

_Everyone of us will fall_

_With our backs against the wall_

_And everyone shares a need _

_To be loved_

_You've always been for me_

_So I will be for you_

_That's just what it means to love_

_Whatever I gotta be_

_I'll be for you_

_Whatever you need from me_

_To see you through_

_Whatever I gotta be _

_I'll be for you_

_I'm for you_

_I'm for you_

_Whatever I gotta be _

_I'll be for you_

_Whatever you need from me_

_To see you through_

_Everyone of us has stumbled_

_Everyone is humbled_

_We hit the ground and our lives crumble_

_Whatever I gotta be_

_I'll be for you_

_Everytime you fall_

_(I'll be for you)_

_And your back's against the wall_

_(I'll be for you)_

_'Cause you've always been for me_

_(I'll be for you)_

_Gonna love till you believe_

_(I'll be for you)_

_I'm for you_

_If you never knew_

_If you never knew_

_I'm for you_

_I'm for you,_

_Like you're for me, _

_Like_

_I'm for you_

_If you never knew_

_If you never knew_

_I'm for you_

_You know it's true_

_I'm for you,_

_Like you're for me,_

_Like you're for me,_

_Like I'm for you,_

_Like you're for me,_

_Like I'm for you. (You)_

_I'm for you,_

_Like you're for me,_

_Like you're for me,_

_Like I'm for you_

_I'm for you,_

_Like you're for me,_

_Like I'm for you. (You)_

_I'm for you."_

End

A/N: And there it is! The song I chose to slightly base this story off of is called _For You _by Toby Mac. I highly recommend you listen to it. :D I'll tell you what the song I chose for the seqquel is. It's _ My Lullaby. _Hmmm... what lullaby you ask? Well, you'll just have to read it to find out. Mwahahahahahahahahaha! ;D

I would like to thank AssassinOfRome for betaing this chapter and Chapter 2. Truly, thank you so much, Rome. :D *hugs*

Now, dear readers, I hope you enjoyed. :D


End file.
